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He's Not the One
Upon an orange throne, with long spikes emerging from the back end of it to lend a menacing silhouette to it, Overlord sits, peering down at the display before him. He has arranged a little game for his amusement! A group of hardcore criminals from Koraja Maximum Isolation and Criminal Countainment (tldr: a prison) are here, and Overlord has arranged them in two groups in what looks vaguely like two Iron Age armies lining up for combat. And indeed, their weapons and even their garb seem to be either a recreation or a mockery of that time period. The criminals are armed with swords, axes, and maces, and armored with sports gear crudely repurposed to look like what ancient Nebulan warriors might have worn. "Now remember," Overlord says down to the groups, smiling in his uncaring way, "I have great plans for those who prove themselves worthy! But... I only need so many of you to carry them out, and I only want *the best*. Ready...?" He watches, delighted, as the Nebulans grow tense, glancing at him, glancing at their enemies. "BEGIN!" And the two sides fall upon one another in a chaotic melee. Kickback watches with detached interest from the left side of the Throne, a step or so down the inevitable dias upon which thrones usually sit. What the Nebulans do to each other is of little concern to him. He might be interested what's left over when the battle's complete, but spectacles of mass bloodsport rarely bring him excitement. "Overlord, sir, if I may ask... have you ever heard of a planet called Earth?" Overlord glances down at Kickback, then turns his attention back to the fight, which has quickly turned brutal. "Yes, of course. Some pretty bauble Galvatron fixates on. I have little interest in it--there are plentiful energy sources elsewhere." A cry sounds out from the combatants as someone is mortally wounded. "The games don't interest you, Kickback?..." "There was a civilization there - Rome, I believe the natives called it; they enjoyed similar games. Sometimes it was warrior versus warrior, sometimes beasts were called in, and sometimes there were brutal races in which charioteers and horses -- that would be their animals of transportation at the time -- were crushed beneath hoof and wheel," Kickback muses. "I cannot say I find the Nebulans particularly engaging, though some show talent." He grins. "I'd much rather it were Autobots, or those who refuse to serve you, down in the pit below." "Rome, you say?" Overlord muses. "It sounds quite entertaining! A pity--perhaps I should have visited Earth in those times. But..." His expression darkens. "I suppose there are a lot of things you miss in four million years. Battles you could have fought in. Enemies you could have broken. Civilizations you could have conquered." He watches the battle wordlessly as an intense look crosses over his optics. "Heh. But you're right! We really do need more Cybertronians in here, but still--don't you see the irony, here, Kickback?" He gestures to the fighters, who have gone halfway through wiping each other out. "Their lives are so short, and yet they fight so desperately to keep them!" Kickback doesn't engage in how Rome fell, however. He doesn't want to dampen Overlord's good spirits. "It's a matter of economics. When something is in short supply, it's desired all the more desperately. I spent some time among the native sentients of earth - Humans as they call themselves - they live an average of only seventy of their years, and yet, they almost intrinsically believe that their lives will not end. It's only when their bodies begin to wear out do they even really consider that death is hot on their heels." "Fascinating, but even so," Overlord muses, resting his chin on his palm, "Are we not subject to the same folly? After all, as machines, it takes us an extremely long time to wear down, unlike these humans. And even if we do, it is possible for us to extend our lives yet further simply by obtaining replacement parts. Though there is always laser core degradation, which is irreversible, but takes a long time to take effect. Then one day someone tosses you out of a shuttle and leaves you to succumb to your wounds." The survivors are now in two scattered, bloody groups, and have backed off to separate corners of the makeshift arena to regroup. "So who is truly more foolish?" Overlord continues. "Them, or us? Hm. Personally, I think we have enough Nebulans to have learned of their mortality for my purposes. What do you think, Kickback?" "Now isn't that a dangerous question," Kickback replies smoothly. He doesn't remember anything about the shuttle away from the battle of Autobot City - there's an enormous memory gap he still deals with - but the comment does not escape his notice. He's chewing every word that comes from Overlord's lips, carefully tasting them for tone, intention, and hidden intention. "If you were Galvatron I'd just tell you what you wanted to hear, or what I thought would best pacify you at the time, and hope I did not get summarily kicked in the head again. If you were Shockwave, I would play to your standards of logic; Cyclonus, the glory of the empire, and if you were Zarak I would appeal to your vanity and insecurities." "But you aren't them. You could still crush me just as easily, but you are not them, and as such I risk my existence opening my mouth to tell you what it is exactly I think." "You, unlike the others, deserve -honesty-. It's a coin of information I spend so rarely that I've all but stockpiled a treasury. What do I think? I think you'll decide how many Nebulans you want whenever you want, in what number or state of psychological health or illness as you want. As for who is truly more foolish, well... I'd place money on every gearhound in that race. Species are rarely wise. It's the individuals that count, not the masses." "Well spoken, Kickback!" Overlord says, deigning to look directly at Kickback, perhaps even meeting his optics. "Too many Decepticon leaders are easily manipulated by their quirks and vanities. Myself... I do not care about being upheld like some sort of God. To be perfectly honest, I never even really wanted to be Decepticon Leader. All I have ever wanted to do is fight, make others fight, and test my abilities who are sufficiently strong-willed and powerful enough to pose a challenge to me. But as far as offending my ego... you would have to work VERY hard to do that, Kickback." He looks to the Nebulans. "And an equally good answer in regards to the Nebulans! I haven't even told you what I plan to use them for, so how would you know how many I need? A lesser Decepticon might have made something up and hoped it satisfied me. Your... *honesty* is refreshing. It must be frustrating to be unable to speak your mind under Galvatron's reign." Loudly, he declares, "ENOUGH! Finish off the wounded and return to the quarters I've provided for you." "But..." a Nebulan says gestures to a squirming body. "...that's my brother!" "Then you can be the one to kill him. Or die in his place." Overlord waits. The Nebulan looks at the ground, and raises his spear. Overlord smiles as one last death cry echoes across the arena. "You adapt or die under a rule of insanity," Kickback states with a sly smile. "I'm not strong, so I can't beat them with brute force. That's their game, their rules, so... I'm not going to fight them. I'm going frag them. That's what I know, that's what I am. It's only by admitting what we are that we can get what we want." "A wise strategy," Overlord says. "Galvatron would also do well to remember that brute force doesn't solve all problems. It can help, of course... but a wise leader understands restraint. And that's where we go into the realm of using THEIR rules against them. Kickback..." He looks meaningfully at the Insecticon. "Do you know why I'm doing all of this? Why I'm engaging in this charade?" "No," Kickback replies, looking at Overlord. "I didn't want to presume to understand you just yet." This is becoming a hard job. Kickback is beginning to like this mech. "So why all of this, then?" he gestures to the arena. "Oh, that?" Overlord says. "Just a little diversion. And to recruit some Nebulans for a little game I have planned for the loyalists and the Autobots. No... what I meant was, what I'm doing here on Nebulos. True, I've profited from coming here. The Powermaster upgrade has made me powerful than ever, and allows me to survive on virtually any fuel source. But that's not why I'm here. The massacres, the intrigue in the Council of Peers, the cyberforming of Koraja, the taunting of Galvatron... it's all to grab his attention, and make him so utterly furious that he MUST come to fight me when I call for him. Not that he will have any choice regardless." "And why the fight then? Apart from ridding the Decepticons of his madness and backstabbing, what will the end goal be? "And why the fight then? Apart from ridding the Decepticons of his madness and backstabbing, what will the end goal be?" Kickback asks. Oh, he remembers all that beytrayal. The Insecticons were loyal enough - until Megatron constantly attempted to stab them in the back. The tit-for-tat got old, fast. "I don't think you understand, Kickback," Overlord says. "That is the end goal. Galvatron ruined everything. Him and Scorponok, both. You remember the old days, don't you? With Sentinel Prime in charge, the Autobots' were being systematically destroyed while he was passing out drunk on a couch, and *I* perfected my trade upon them. And with the Decepticons being broken up into multiple subfactions, I would even be sent to deal with them at times. But then, two things happened. First, there was the death of Sentinel Prime. Scorponok was too much of a raging idiot to realize what he did, too proud of the slagstain he left on our clean floor. The Autobots were going to get a new, better leader, and the slaughters I once relished would come to an end. Second, Megatron rose to power, *killed Straxus* and united the Decepticon factions together." Overlord rises from his throne. "And after doing such a thing... after spoiling EVERYTHING... THEN Megatron had the gall to demand my allegiance!" He stomps forward past the Insecticon, his optics burning as he expresses genuine anger for the first time to Kickback. It's not unlike watching a hurricane approach. "He was so arrogant as to... as to compromise my ability to control my own body! And he wanted me to be HIS plaything, to use as he saw fit!" His fists clench, the knuckle joints straining. "*No.*" The anger is understood. It is agreed with. Kickback is solemn as he looks on Overlord's rage expressed in words; again, it is hard to disagree with him. He too, would enjoy better leadership among the Decepticons. Less infighting. More efficiency. There might be *victory* if their energy was not being dissipated to internal strife and insanity. Kickback stands stone still, not even an antennae moving. There is only one problem with that plan, the Insecticon thinks to himself, it ends far too soon. "I understand," he says softly. "I was in the same position; when the Decepticons went to Earth, I was forced to take *this* form," he says, gesturing to his arms and legs. "And for all the work we did for Megatron, at every turn he attempted to slaughter Shrapnel, Bombshell and I as if we were nothing more than a cheap means to an end." He begins to laugh. "But we nearly turned the tables on him once! If only I had the source of that nova power core once more... only three Insecticons, and we had Megatron and Prime both running!" His mirth lessens. "But that would have robbed you of your revenge, wouldn't it? Far be it for me to take that well-deserved reward from you." Overlord looks down. He had stepped into the middle of the arena, and when he raises a foot to look under it... well, bit of a mess, there. He wipes his foot off on the edge of the arena to get the Nebulan bits off. "Perhaps. I am not certain how I would have reacted. Would I have throttled you the moment I saw you again? Or would I have been grateful to have been freed of the one Decepticon I could not challenge in battle, and amused at his ignominious death?" He looks up at Kickback. "Perhaps it is for the best we won't have to find out. Anyway, I don't plan on killing Galvatron. Not right away. I want him to suffer first. I want him to suffer for *millenia*. And then, only after I grow weary of his pathetic whimpering, only then will I let him die. And perhaps, Kickback, perhaps if you're still alive by then... and you've been a *good* Insecticon... perhaps I may even feed him to you and your fellow Insecticons. Wouldn't that be a fitting end for him, after all the trouble he caused for *you*?" "No," Kickback replies. "Some things are too repulsive even for us to consider feeding on." Overlord chuckles. "I can't blame you. Very well, then--I'll have to come up with some other reward. It shouldn't be difficult to convince whomever is leading the Decepticons at the time." Which... implies Overlord won't be?... Kickback files all of this away. Such promise, and such tragedy on the horizon, he thinks. "So you won't take the helm then, when Galvatron is crushed? I'm surprised; I think you'd make a better leader than any of the fools presently in the upper echelons of Decepticon power." Overlord clasps his hands behind his back, pacing about the arena. "Yes. I did say I wasn't truly interested in leadership. Management, bureaucracy, *politics*--" He spits that last word out. "These petty trifles are beneath me. At worst, they're a distraction. My talents lay in the battlefield, leading an army while destroying another utterly. That is all I want to do." "Purity of purpose is a thing of beauty," Kickback praises honestly. "But someone will have to handle the necessities of the office. Surely you don't intend to let that be someone like Shockwave or Zarak. I am with you on the terms of conquest, but I have little trust left to gift into the hands of some new Lord I do now know." Overlord turns back to the Insecticon in the deliberate manner of a professor conducting a lecture. "You can never truly trust another Decepticon. That is simply the way of things, Kickback. And even I enjoyed my service under Straxus, I did not even trust him. So, regrettably, the Decepticon chain-of-command must, by necessity, be decimated--all the Unicronians must be killed or otherwise rendered irrelevant, along with anyone else who thinks to avenge Galvatron. Scorponok will suffer a similar fate as Galvatron, and Zarak--oh, I won't touch him at all! But I *will* peel the flesh off of his daughter, right in front of his eyes, layer by layer. Shockwave, on the other hand... it may have to be him for a time. By his nature, he doesn't bear grudges. He will do what is logical--to take command, and leave me to my work. Besides, where would be the fun in torturing *him*?" He hasn't even thought this through, Kickback cogitates. Such wasted potential. "Interesting. Now I wish I'd spent more time trying to learn as much of Shockwave's technical skills as possible. I could abide by him, for a time, at least." Overlord, in fact, hasn't thought this through--because the only part he cares about is getting revenge. Stepping back to his throne, Overlord muses aloud, "Yes... he'll have to do." He settles into the throne, gazing ahead at the ruined "city" before him. "Not to worry, Kickback, you and your fellow Insecticons will have a place of prestige, as well. You will have earned it." He chuckles. "I can hardly wait to see Galvatron's reaction to the surprise I have for him. Heh heh heh." "As will I, Overlord," Kickback smiles wryly. "As will I."